


Baby

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, Blair isn't pregnant, but his former girlfriend is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby

**Author's Note:**

> M/M and M/F implied sex. Big thanks to Dark Cherry for the fast and super beta. Additional warning of a slightly silly Jim. 

## Baby

by Pink Dragon

Author's disclaimer: They're not mine. No money made. No infringement intended. 

* * *

Baby 

I'm grinning like an idiot, and I know it. Walking through the parking lot at Chuck E. Cheese, grinning like a fucking idiot. Me, the one with the senses, going to Chuck E. Cheese, can you believe it? You see, this is our baby girl's third birthday. Blair's and my baby girl, and I'm going to Chuck E. Cheese for her birthday party. And I never, ever, expected to be doing this. I never expected my life to be like this. This happy, this good. And Blair caused it all. He loves me, and he gave me this life, gave us this life. He gave us Katy. Well, he and Shelly gave us Katy. And on every birthday she has, I remember the day we found out we were gonna be dads. Because it changed our lives, and we couldn't be happier. This is how it happened. 

Three years and 11 days ago... 

Thursday 7:15 PM: 

I press the button on the answering machine, 4 messages. I just came home from work, alone, Blair staying a little later to finish up a report. He sent me home to start supper. Can you believe it? He's fucking domesticated me. I grin to myself, my perfectly happy, domesticated self, and grab a piece of paper to write down Blair's messages. 

<beep> "Hi, uh Blair? This is Chad at 'Buy The Book,' uh, the book you ordered is in. Total is $157.99. Sorry the price is so high. It's the only copy I could find outside a library, and the seller knows what it's worth, man. Sorry. Pick it up any time. See you then." <beep> Blair buys lots of books, but you probably already knew that. 

I write myself a message to pick up the book for Blair; I can always find a reason to buy him something. If we don't have any kind of anniversary or holiday coming up, I make one up. I think he's figured that out, he's not saying anything yet, but he narrows his eyes and looks suspicious. I'll have to clue Chad in so he makes some excuse to Blair for not having the book, after all. $20 usually convinces him to play along. Been here before, with Blair and his books. I smile to myself, looking forward to surprising him. He's so fucking cute when you surprise him. And he's so, so appreciative. You should see him. Well, maybe not. 

<beep> click. A hang-up. Oh, well. 

<beep> click. Another hang up. 

<beep> "Hello, um, Blair? This message is for Blair Sandburg, could you please call me, Blair? It's Shelly. Shelly Bashor. We need to talk Blair. This is important. Can you call me back? Um, right away? Same number. Bye, Blair." 

Well. Important huh? Didn't leave a number. I don't remember a Shelly, but that doesn't mean there wasn't one. I know it's 'wasn't' not 'isn't' cause he's mine, now, mine, mine, mine, all mine! You're too late Shelly, you can't have him! Ha ha hee hee! I write the message down, adding 'important' in big letters so he doesn't miss it. Little did I know Shelly'd already had him. 

Friday afternoon: 

Blair's back from a long lunch with Shelly. God, he's pale as a ghost, and his heart rate's elevated. Shit. "Blair?" I say, pushing him down into his chair before he falls down "You OK? You don't look too good, Chief. Did you get a bad tamale?" I like to try to amuse him. He's really sweet when he's amused. 

He looks up at me, waving me away. "I'm fine, Jim. Let's get to work, huh? Lots to do, man, lots to do." He's trying to act like nothing's wrong but I'm not buying it. Not buying it at all. 

I go sit back down at my desk, and he's just sitting there, looking around. Like he's lost. "Hey, Chief, everything OK over there? Earth to Chief!" I say, teasing, trying to get his attention. His eyes wander back to me, he looks at me for about 3 seconds, and then he gets up and walks over to Simon's office, knocks on the door and just goes right on in without even waiting for Simon to bellow his usual 'COME!' Oh, shit. I listen in. I have to. He's my Guide, isn't he? I have to make sure he's OK, don't I? I have a right, don't I? Well, don't I? So I listen in. And hear nothing. Well, not nothing, just nothing enlightening. 

"What is it Sandburg? I'm busy." Simon, being his usual charming self. 

"Captain, can I take the rest of the day off? Um, something's come up, so to speak," and he laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. "I don't think I'd really be earning my paycheck this afternoon, and I'd probably be a danger to the general public, carrying a gun and all, so can I just go home?" 

"Sit down, son. What's wrong? Anything I can help with?" Simon doing 'serious' now. 

"No, Simon, there's really nothing you can do, man. Just something I sorta need to deal with," he says. "I'll be good as new by Monday. Okay?" 

"Sure kid, go on home." Blair's a full-fledged detective with the department, got his own gun and badge and everything, and Simon still calls him 'kid.' I watch as he comes out of Simon's office, picks up and moves a few things on his desk. "Jim, I'm gonna take off, OK? I'll see you at home, man. Got some things to do." 

I'm getting worried now. It's not like him to shut me out. "What's up Blair? You gotta talk to me buddy," I say softly. "What's going on?" 

"Oh god, Jim," he says, running both hands back through his hair, then rubbing them hard over his face. "I can't talk about this yet. Tonight, man. We'll talk tonight, OK?" 

I'm standing right next to his desk, now, and he's looking at me, but right through me. Shit. "Let me drive you home, babe," I say, really softly, so only he can hear. "I'm worried about you." And I am, I really, really am. 

"I'll be OK, Jim. I can drive." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. He smiles at me, a little sad, and I think, well, maybe he'll be okay. 

"Ok, Chief. Pick me up at 6:00, OK?" I'm still worried, but I'm gonna let him leave. He may be mine, but he's an adult. I know, because he keeps telling me that. "We'll stop for dinner, OK?" 

"Yeah, Jim, that'd be good. See you then, man." 

He picks up his coat and the truck keys and walks away. I watch him walk to the elevator. He doesn't turn around to wave, like he usually does, or stick his butt out and pat it, when he gets out of eyesight of everyone else in the department except me. He punches the button, gets on the elevator, and he's gone. He doesn't even talk to me on his way down, like he always does. Always. Shit. 

Friday 6:00 

I'm waiting right outside the door of the P.D. at 6:00 when Blair comes to pick me up. He pulls right into the 'no parking' zone out front, just like a cop, and shoves the passenger side door open for me. "Hey, Chief," I say, getting settled, and wrapping the seat belt around my neck. I know, I know. You'd think I'd be tall enough that it wouldn't be a problem, but there you go. You'd be wrong. 

"Hey, Jim. Everything go OK this afternoon? No zones or anything?" Jesus, he's worried about me. He looks tired. And like he might have been crying. 

"Everything went fine, Chief. You OK, babe?" I ask. 

He smiles at me. "Well, I will be. I hope. Look, let's just stop and pick up something to take home for dinner, 'kay? I don't much feel like sitting in a restaurant." 

"Sure Blair, whatever you want," I answer, reaching over and giving his arm a little rub. He looks back at me and smiles a little. 

Friday 8:00 

"Ok, Chief, I never thought I'd ever be the one to say this, but we gotta talk. Tell me what's going on." Dinner's over, the dishes are done, and we're sitting at the kitchen table, decaf in hand. 

"Shit, man, I don't know how to say this, other than just to come right out and say it." He's shaking again, and his heart's racing. Shit. He takes a big gulp of air and whooshes it out. 

"Jesus, Blair, this isn't about us, is it? You're not leaving are you? God Blair, you can't leave!" I'm scared, and when I get scared I get angry, then I get loud. Very self-aware, aren't I? I can feel all the blood leaving my face and I'm shaking. He's leaving me! But he can't! I wail to myself, he's mine and he promised he'd never leave! Well, he did! 

"No, baby, no, no, no, it's not us, it's not you, I love you baby, love you, love you, love you, you big schmuck." He's sitting in my lap now, stradling me; I didn't even see him coming. He's kissing my head and crushing my face into his shoulder. Arms wrapped around me, tight, petting my hair, rubbing his knuckles hard on my back. I think I'm hyperventilating. Blair would know. You could ask him. 

"Okay, okay, sorry, Chief, I kinda freaked there, but you got me worried. What the hell's going on?" I'm still gasping for air. 

"Breathe, Jim." And I do. Well, he said to breathe, so I breathe, what else would I do? I breathe, several times, deep and restful. I can feel him smiling against my hair. "You're kinda crushing me, big guy." 

"Oh, sorry," I let my arms fall a little looser around him. I'm a little embarrassed here. I sorta lost it. 

"You okay now?" he asks, and I can hear a little laughter in his voice. 

"Yeah, Chief, I'm okay, glad that amused you," I snipe at him, gently. He laughs, softly, and pulls my face up towards his, and kisses my nose. 

"You big dummy, you know I'm never gonna leave you. I promised you that, didn't I? Well, didn't I?" he insists, shaking me a bit. Told you. 

"Yeah, you did," I nod, relieved. He's smiling at me now, a little. "Well, Sandburg, what is it?" He knows what I mean. He loses most of the smile and tries to get off my lap, but I hold him there. So, he gives up and wraps himself back around me. "Give, Sandburg," I grouse. 

"Shit Jim, well here goes. This woman I used to date, Shelly?" Ah....Shelly. "Well she called the other day... " 

"I know that Sandburg, I gave you the message," I interupt him. "What did she want?" 

"Would you just let me tell this, Jim?" He sounds a little pissed, so I decide I'll just let him tell it. Wouldn't you? Well? 

"Okay, well she's, uh, pregnant." Pregnant? Well that's nice, I think to myself. Blair's friend is pregnant. Then it hits me what he's saying. 

"PREGNANT??? What do you mean she's pregnant?" I'm glaring at him now. And thinking to myself, you can't have gotten someone pregnant, you're mine! You can only get me pregnant! Well, you know what I mean. 

"I mean she's pregnant, Jim. And it's mine. She's 8 1/2 months, due in about 2 weeks. Her family finally talked her into telling me. They said I had a right to know. That I'm a dad. Or gonna be. Shit, Jim, I'm sorry." He's got his face against my head, and I'm not sure, but I think he's crying. 

"Well, shit, Blair, how'd that happen? Haven't you ever heard of birth control? Didn't Naomi do the banana/condom thing?" I'm pissed, but I got the 8 1/2 months part, so I know it was before us. Before we were an us, Blair and me. You know what I mean. But still... pregnant! Shit. 

"Well, actually, she used a zucchini, but the concept's the same, man. Naomi doesn't do bananas. You know, destruction of the rain forest, exploitation of plantation laborers. All that." He's talking into my hair and I can feel him smile. I've amused him. "I've never, ever, had sex without a condom, with anyone. Till you, I mean." He's quiet, hugging me tight. Well, shit. I didn't know that. He didn't tell me. "I don't know what happened, man. You know condoms aren't 100 percent effective." Well, no shit, Sherlock. "Shit, Jim, I'm sorry." 

"Don't keep apologizing to me Sandburg; I'm not the one you knocked up," I say, still sounding a little pissed. 

"Gee, Jim, glad to hear it. One announcement a day like that is all I can take." He's calming down now, heart slowing, breathing better, slower. "She's going to keep the baby, of course. It's not like she's 17 or something, knocked up and alone. She's an adult. And her family's supportive. She's got a good job, she teaches at Pacific High, and she loves kids." This is good; we're talking now, not panicking. 

"That's good, Blair. Does she want you to raise the baby with her? I don't mean marry her or anything," I add quickly. I know he won't marry her; he's married to me. Well, sorta. He grins. 

"Naw, Jim, can't marry her, I'm already married. " He hugs me tight. "But we do need to talk about me doing the dad thing." 

"Hey, babe, there's nothing to talk about. You wanna do the dad thing, we do the dad thing," I tell him. "It's you and me, and baby makes three, well, four if you count Shelly." I say. He's smiling at me, now. I've amused him again. 

"'We' do the dad thing, Jim? As in you and me?" He's still smiling, looking a little relieved, and rubbing his forehead against mine. 

"Yeah, Blair, 'we', as in you and me. I mean, if that's OK with you. If you want me to." And I rub back. "She knows about us, right?" Suddenly, I'm stressed again. Shit. 

"Of course it's Ok man, that'd be great. We'll be dads together. And yeah, she knows about us. I had to give her some reason why I was fixated on you, when I was supposed to be with her." He laughs softly. That's a conversation I would have loved to hear. No, Shelly, I can't fall in love with you; I'm already in love with my roomie. And he's a he. 

"Fixated, Sandburg? Is that what you are?" I'm teasing him, laughing. 

"Yeah, Jim, fixated, as in permanently affixed. Fixated," he says. I don't think it's the Funk and Wagnall's definition, but it works for me. We're both smiling now. We're gonna be okay. We're gonna be dads, but we're gonna be okay. 

"So, buddy, where do we go from here?" I ask. 

"How the fuck should I know, Jim? I've never been a dad before. Maybe there's a book. Let's go turn on the tv, OK? I'm a little wiped. I could use some mindless diversion," he says, climbing off my lap. 

So we turn on the tv. Well, what else would we do? He wants mindless diversion, he gets mindless diversion. We'll worry about the dad thing tomorrow, a la Scarlet O'Hara. Not that she had a dad thing. You know what I mean. I turn on the tv and pull him into my lap. I do mindless diversion really well. Ask Blair. Well, go ahead, ask him. 

And then it was Saturday morning we had a little more mindless diversion, then we went to work on the dad thing. Over the next few days we shopped, we read, (yes, there was a book) we argued over names, all three of us. We settled on Catherine, after Blair's grandmother, and Elizabeth, after Shelly's grandmother, if it was a girl. And Jacob after Blair's middle name, and, against my strenuous objections, but I was out-voted, Joseph, after my middle name, if it was a boy, with Bashor hyphen Sandburg at the end. 'Naomi' never had a chance at the final cut, and neither did 'Arthur' or 'Beatrice,' Shelly's parents' names. 

We called lawyers, and made a custody agreement, Blair insisting on equal, joint custody, and Shelly finally agreeing. Shelly insisted on a paternity test, after the baby's six weeks old, but Blair insisted he knew he was the dad, but he did it anyway, and he was. The dad, I mean. And we made wills, both of us. And I gave Blair half the apartment building, (I own the whole thing, see, not just the loft,) just so if anything happened to me, he'd never lose our home. We set up a trust account, and a family leave plan for all of us, for when the baby came. We turned the study into a nursery and we baby-proofed the house. 

We called Naomi. And Simon. And my dad. Don't go there. We got surprisingly little ribbing from the guys at work about being knocked up. They all know that babies just sometimes have a way of happening, whether you're planning them or not. We got kinda grossed out about the whole birthing part, the books had pictures, and Sandburg decided he didn't really want to be in the delivery room and I think Shelly was just as happy to have her mom there instead. 

She called 11 days later; it was time. So we did the baby thing. We went to the hospital and sat in the waiting room with Arthur, and Shelly's sister Denise, and Simon, who spent a whole lot of time talking to Denise, and we drank bad coffee and pestered the staff and obsessed, is everything ok, is the baby ok, is Shelly ok, what's taking so long. And they were. Okay, I mean. Seven pounds, six ounces. A girl. Catherine Elizabeth Bashor-Sandburg. A perfect baby girl. And Blair cried when he held her for the first time, and I have to admit, I did, too. Simon was even a little damp around the eyes but he'll never admit it. And 2 days later, we all took her home. 

And now, 3 years later, here we are. In the parking lot at Chuck E. Cheese. 

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Come look at all the presents!" She's very articulate for three. 

I'm walking into Chuck E. Cheese and she's running to meet me, blonde curls flying and big blue eyes wide with delight. Of course, Blair's right behind, keeping such a close eye on our baby girl. God, she's three years old today, our baby girl is three! She flies into my arms and hugs me tight around the neck. Jeesh, you'd think I hadn't seen her for a week, instead of only a few hours, but I hug her right back, just as hard, I missed her just as much. She's still talking a mile a minute (wonder where she gets that from?) and pointing to presents, and birthday cake and silly kid games and some weirdo dressed up in some kind of mouse suit. I'm gonna be keeping my eye on him! And her hands are flying all over the place. I'm grinning at her like an idiot, just as excited as she is. Well, she's my baby girl! What'd you expect? Studied indifference? 

"Happy birthday, Katy-bug," I tell her, still grinning like an idiot, and kiss her on the head. She's wearing the tiny yellow dress Blair and I picked out for her last weekend. You should see him in the baby department. You really should. I wave hello to Shelly, watching from across the room. She waves back, smiling, relaxed, happy. 

Blair finally gets across the room, through all the kids, and the weirdo in the mouse suit, and slides an arm around my waist and gives me a hug. "Hi, babe, glad you're here. Pizza's just about ready." He's smiling at me and shouting over the din. Oh, goody, Chuck E. Cheese pizza, I think to myself, can't hardly wait. He sees it in my eyes, and his arm tightens around me, he understands, his eyes laughing back at me. We'd both do anything; even eat Chuck E. Cheese pizza, for our Katy-bug. 

"Can't wait," I say, shouting and hugging him back, still grinning. And that, my friends, is how it all happened. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
